


The tending of wounds

by disappointionist



Category: Wallander (UK TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-11
Updated: 2015-01-11
Packaged: 2018-03-07 05:06:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3162326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disappointionist/pseuds/disappointionist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Kurt is injured in the field, he imagines there is no time to go see a doctor in the middle of a chase. This leaves Magnus with little choice but to take the matter into his own hands to ensure that Kurt isn't going to do something incredibly stupid again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The tending of wounds

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This fic contains serious medical procedures performed by someone other than a professional. (The stitching up of a wound to be precise.) Which should of course absolutely not ever be done. What I'm saying is, be safe and don't try this at home (even if your boss does get wounded by a bullet.).  
> This fic is unbetaed and all mistakes, but nothing else, belong to me.

It's a bit of a jumble, afterward. When the suspect has bolted for it, and the gunshots still ringing in Kurt's ears. The team is on it of course, he hears it over the radio that a police officer is reporting into at the scene. Still, he wants to be there when he stops, wants to be there when he gets to his home and they're already there.

So Kurt runs, crooked and limping next to Martinsson toward the car. He's not sure how well the other man is paying attention, but he tries to mask his pain by reaching for his car keys in the pocket of his trousers, digging them out and throwing them to Magnus.

”You drive!” He calls to the younger man, who catches the keys, a little too short of breath to confirm in anything other than a nod.

They get to the car, and once they do Magnus fumbles with the keys in the lock for a moment before the door opens. And then, Kurt stumbles a little as he tries to lean on his left leg when he's turning to go around to the passenger side.. He stands swaying for a moment. The younger man looks up at him, lash of confusion in his eyes. And then, as Kurt watches them narrow he has the time to think well fuck, before Magnus reaches out for both his arms, grabbing them to steady him.

”Kurt, are you...” He frowns, searching for eye contact that Kurt reluctantly gives him. ”You're hurt.” Not a question, Kurt thinks. A statement. He sets his jaw and nods to confirm. ”Fuck.” Magnus mutters. ”Was it a bullet?”

”I don't actually know.” Kurt says. ”It was all a mess over there. Maybe just a splinter. Anyway. I can walk, it doesn't hurt that bad.”

”Let me see.” Magnus says, leading Kurt the short bit, hands insistently on the side of Kurt's arms still, to the driver's seat, where he sits him down. He crouches down on the ground in front of Kurt, hands gently moving the ripped fabric underneath Kurt's left knee.

”It's fine.” Kurt says, ignoring the shiver of discomfort that runs through him. Magnus looks up at him, biting on his lower lip. His eyes look worried, and Kurt realizes he probably won't get away with this.

”You need a doctor.” Magnus says, confirming that realization fully.

“No, I need to catch this guy.” He says, voice insistent. He is Magnus superior officer, and he's not going to just sit around while it all happens.

“Kurt!” Magnus protests.

“Magnus I'm not going to wait in bloody line for three hours at the emergency just because you refuse to take orders and get in the damn car to follow the suspect!”

“I'm not refusing to take orders I'm trying to make sure that you're alright!”

“I'm fine!” Kurt yells with conviction, although he's not actually sure that he is. It's not like he's stopped to check what the wound really looks like. From Magnus' expression right now he can tell that the man is seething with wishes to knock Kurt out or to just say fuck it and leave. As so often is the case however, he ends up doing none of those things.

”Fine.” Magnus sighs. ”But we need to go by my place.” He says, getting into the driver's seat. ”I'm driving, but I forgot my license at home. And we can't have an officer doing that. We might be driving for some time.” Magnus says.

”Three minutes, tops.” Kurt calls him, as he limps around the car and gets in on the passenger side.

”You can call Lindeman while we drive and have him report back. If something happens before I'm done you can blame me.” Magnus tells him. ”I'll be quick.” He promises, starting the car once he's made sure that Kurt has gotten in properly.

”Okay.” Kurt says, but he makes sure there is a warning to his voice. But it's not like Magnus has let him down in situations like this before. He trusts him, fully to be as quick as he can. If not at least because he doesn't want to bring down Kurt's annoyance more than necessary. As Magnus drives the short distance to his apartment building in town, Kurt calls Lindeman who is following their suspect at a distance. So far everything seems to be indicating that the suspect is still trying to shake the police off his tail. This would leave time for them to catch up, even with a detour, Kurt reasons.

When Magnus pulls to a stop on a lucky parking outside the building, Kurt unbuckles his seatbelt and opens the door.

”And what the hell do you think you're doing?” Magnus asks, frowning. ”You are not in a state to go up two stairs.” He says.

”Well someone needs to make sure that you are back in that car within three minutes.” Kurt tells him, already stepping out of the car and shutting the door.

”Dammit.” Magnus mutters, but he gets out and locks the car up anyway. He goes inside the stairwell without waiting for Kurt, like he's somehow hoping to shake him off while he goes. Kurt doesn't let him of course, using the rail on the stairs to drag himself up surprisingly fast.

Magnus has left his front door open, and Kurt steps inside, closing it.

 

”Do you have it yet?” He calls to the other man, who comes out of the living room and over to him where he hovers by the door. Magnus doesn't confirm that he has picked up his license however, instead he takes Kurt by the arm and pulls him gently into the living room. ”Magnus what are you doing this is...” Kurt protests loudly as he's led over to a chair.

”Just sit down and shut the hell up.” The younger man orders.

”Magnus!”

”Sit. Down.” He says, and he stares so seriously at Kurt that the other man feels like he has no choice. He does as he's told, backing into the armchair and sitting down. Magnus goes over to an old bureau of sorts and pulls out a few smaller drawers.

”You're not going to the hospital, but I'm not letting you run around with that either.” Magnus says, searching through the drawers.

”I'm fine.” Kurt insists and the other man slams the drawers shut. Looks at him.

”Yeah? Well maybe you are now Kurt. But perhaps you're not in a couple of hours.” He says, coming over to Kurt, and kneeling down by his side. Kurt looks at him in confusion as he sets down, amongst other things, a bottle and some cotton on the floor.

”What are you doing?” He asks.

”Roll up your trouser-leg.” Magnus instructs, wadding the cotton with whatever is in the bottle. It smells strongly of alcohol, tickling in Kurt's nostrils. He frowns. ”Just do it Kurt.” The younger man looks at him now, and it's clear that this is an order, and nothing short of it. So Kurt reaches down and rolls up the leg of his trousers. Revealing the wound that has grazed the side of his leg, pretty deep but not hitting anything of high importance, about a decimetre down from the knee. He hisses a bit as the fabric of his trousers tug and pull at the wound. It does hurt. He didn't notice much before. And then he hisses again, louder and with an added yelp to it as well, when Magnus presses the soaked cotton ball to the wound.

”Fuck!” Kurt curses. ”You could have warned me.” He says. Magnus smiles a little up at him.  
”And what would be the fun in that?” He asks.

”I could have kicked you on accident or something.” Kurt says, and Magnus laughs, shaking his head and pressing a bit more against the wound. Kurt is gritting his teeth, pulling a way less than pleased face that the younger man seemingly ignores.

”But you didn't. It was worth it.” He says. ”And it also needs cleaning, and it will hurt to do that no matter if I tell you first or not.” He takes the cotton off the wound, but only after cleaning up around it properly with some more cotton.

”Good to go?” Kurt asks, starting to get up, but Magnus rises a bit too, placing both hands firmly on Kurt's arms and forcing him back into the chair. The action surprises Kurt so much he doesn't even struggle, but then from one look at Magnus' bare arms he figures he might have had only half a chance even if he had.

”Stay put.” The younger man says, kneeling back down again and picking up a pair of glasses from the floor and unfolds them. Kurt looks at him as he puts the black frames on.

”Since when do you wear glasses?” He asks.

”I need them for sewing.” Magnus says simply, shrugging and pushing the glasses further up his nose.

”You say that like you sew a lot.”

”I do. I'm a police officer. Things tear.” He says. Kurt laughs a little.

”I guess they do.”

”Don't you sew stuff together?” Magnus asks.

”Well I've never had to.” He shrugs. ”But I should probably learn.”

”It's better than wearing torn things.” Magnus looks up at him with a sly little smile. ”Especially when you don't have enough free time to go shopping.”

”You really don't need to sew my trousers up Magnus. I can get new ones.” Kurt says after a while. Magnus shakes his head.

”I'm not sewing your trousers, Kurt. I am sewing your stubborn self up so that I can actually with good conscience let you continue working tonight.” He says simply.

”Magnus” Kurt says, a bit warningly. ”You know sewing jeans and shirts doesn't make you qualified to stitch a man up, right?” He says. ”You understand I'm not going to let you just sew in my skin like it's just a thing of cotton. I may want to go to work rather than to the hospital, but I'm not complete idiot.” He points out, hearing the other man sigh.

”That can be argued for though.” He says.

”Magnus.” Kurt frowns.

”Fine. I was in the military.” The younger man says. ”I was a medic, well, mostly an ambulance driver but I learned stuff like this.” He says, nodding to the needle, thread and scissors in his hand. He looks up at Kurt and holds his gaze

”Is it at least medical thread you have there?” Kurt asks at last, wearily.

”No it's from my embroider your own kitten-kit.” Magnus says, when the other man doesn't laugh he shakes his head. ”Of course it's medical thread. If I'm not being clear enough I am doing this so that you will be alright Kurt. If I wanted you to get an infection or worse I would have let you just carry on running after bad guys within the minute after you got hurt.” He says, a little frustrated now. ”Now will you let me do this?” He asks.

Kurt considers, and then he nods, once, very still.

”I must have read that when you applied for the job.”

”I'm sure you did.” Magnus shrugs a little, making sure the thread is secure in the needle. He looks up at Kurt. ”I'm not going to lie. It's going to hurt.” He says. Kurt nods once again. And Magnus looks down at his hands, resting against Kurt's again. Kurt looks at the younger man's hands, they're not shaking, not even a little bit. Then he pierces the needle through Kurt's skin, swiftly, as if he wants to get it over with. It hurts, but it's not as bad as Kurt would have imagined. Maybe the pain from the wound itself is helping a bit, numbing the ache and giving him little peaks of pain it instead.

Kurt bites down a little on his lip when Magnus pierces the needle through on the other side, drawing the two ends together with a twist and then a knot. He ties the stitch up, cuts it off, then tugs at the string again, and pierces Kurt's skin again, next to the first stitch.

Kurt watches the other man and the way he moves in deep concentration silently leaning close over him, his glasses on, the tip of his tongue sometimes visible between his lips. His hands moving as if they have never done anything but draw and slip, stitch and tie.

”You seem quite good at this.” Kurt points out somewhere at the end of the second stitch.

”Didn't I tell you to shut up?” Magnus breathes, not looking up at him.

”Why did you join the military?”

”Kurt, seriously.” Magnus rolls his eyes at Kurt now that he has finished stitch number two as well. He sighs as he cuts the thread yet again. ”Well, I wanted to be a police officer.” He says, staying still for a moment. ”And well... for a scrawny, thin and lanky boy of 17 that seemed really unlikely, so I decided to do military service.”

”To be fair that's not very different to what you look like to me now.” Kurt says with an amused smile. He winces when Magnus goes through his skin with the needle again.

”You shouldn't speak like that to the man who is stitching you up.” Magnus says, once again looking down at his hands and the work he is doing.

”Fair point.” Kurt sighs, letting his head fall back against the back of the chair. Silently, he watches the other man adjust the thread again. He sees the younger man's eyes tense up in concentration, the tip of his tongue sometimes visible between his lips for a second. The stabbing pain when the needle pierces, the strange itchy tug as Magnus pulls the ends of the string together. Ties them up neatly. It's quite fascinating, Kurt has to admit. He's never watched someone, and especially not Magnus, do something like this before. There's a level of concentration in Magnus in particular that he wasn't even sure that the other man had, despite all his going through files and documents.

Magnus snips the thread on the third stitch.

”You're all done.” He says. And then, ”I'm sorry. I know it was more than three minutes.” He actually sounds remorseful. Kurt nods.

”At least Lindeman hasn't called yet.” He says, trying to sound more stern than he feels. ”You're pretty good at this.” He points out as he leans forward to look at the wound and the neat three stitches that holds it together.

”Just because it looks good doesn't mean it's well done.” Magnus shrugs. ”You still need to see someone about them if they come undone.” He says.

”Yeah, I got it. Don't ignore health over work.” Kurt nods, watches the smile spread across Magnus' face. It looks good, a sincere little smile.

”Sorry, I forgot who i was talking to for a second.” He says warmly.

And Kurt thinks he's going to lean back, or stand up at least. But he doesn't. Quite the opposite instead. He inches a little forward in his chair, leaning closer to the younger man sitting next to him.

He reaches out with his left hand, and grips Magnus jaw gingerly. For a moment he hesitates, not sure if he's trying to read Magnus' face or his own actions. Not sure he gets an answer out of it either. He just goes on, follows through with the movement as he pulls the other man closer to him. Softly, he presses their lips together. Just a peck, and then one draw of breath.

Maybe that's enough, he thinks. But Magnus moves, not away from him but closer, slanting his head to the side. One hand gripping at the front of Kurt's shirt. And Kurt can't resist it, draws the other man up against his chest, opening his mouth to find the other man's open too, deepening the kiss. Relishing in how it tastes of coffee and smells of aftershave.

Nothing about it makes any sense, Magnus stubble, his flat chest and the awkward angle which makes him jam his elbow into Kurt's side. But even if it doesn't, it feels a thousand times better than Kurt would have imagined it. And he realizes, that this is all because every single moment tastes and feels of something that is just Magnus, and for some reason, he likes that. Somehow he finds himself not ever wanting that to end.

But it does of course, Magnus at last pulling back, even if it is just a little. Kurt can hear his own heartbeat racing ahead in his own head.

”Kurt?” Magnus says.

”Yeah?” Kurt blinks at him.

”What the hell was that?” Magnus asks, his voice sounds so soft and breathy. His entire expression feels soft actually, except for the very words he's speaking.

”I don't actually know.” Kurt confesses. He looks at Magnus, at the other man's hands twisting in his shirt, at his wound, at the room around him, and then back at the other man again. ”Thanks, I think.” Magnus is still and quiet for a long moment. Kurt counts his own breaths. Eight in, eight out.

”Okay.” Magnus says at last. ”We might need to talk about that.” He points out, and Kurt shrugs.

”That's fine. My therapist would like that too.” Kurt says, hints at a smile. Magnus shakes his head and gathers up the stuff he spread across the floor.

”Good.” The younger man says. ”We should probably go though, because god forbid you won't like... get to catch the bad guy.” He rolls his eyes dramatically and Kurt laughs as he rolls down his trouser leg again. When he does, he glances sideways for a second, and when he does he's pretty sure that he catches Magnus smiling.

 

 


End file.
